


love on the brain

by lacecat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: (minus the very end), Canon Era, Din Djarin's Helmet Stays on During Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jealousy, M/M, One Shot, Planet Coruscant (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29378436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacecat/pseuds/lacecat
Summary: Din’s hand catches his wrist, under the table. “What are you doing?”Luke’s thumb rubs circles in his inseam, where the beskar plates have slipped as he sits, a weak spot in his armor. “I’ve been practicing,” he says, as casually as he runs his fingers over Din’s leg, back and forth, “Doing my mind tricks, as you say.”
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 61
Kudos: 479





	love on the brain

**Author's Note:**

> happy friday! do you ever just write something bc it had to be put out there??? written very quickly for fun, and because no one's touching in the other fic akjsksskj
> 
> I'm @villanellve on tumblr!

He could never step foot on Coruscant again and die happy. Din has never been a fan of core planets, let alone ones like Coruscant where there is just too much of everything - too many bright lights, too many people, too much sound and movement.

He’s had his helmet run a sound filter so that the ambient noise in the bar is a little less distracting to him. Though no amount of filters could keep him from blocking out the Jedi across the table from him, who’s been driving him crazy since they walked in here.

He’s on Coruscant in the first place because of a personal invitation from Senator Organa. It’s supposedly to discuss the Alliance’s relationship with the newly established - Din would say _re-_ established - the planet of Mandalore. Officially, it’s a diplomatic visit.

Unofficially, he’s certain that Organa knows about his relationship with her brother, and she seems to take delight in making him sweat over dinners by inquiring about his intentions.

His intentions - regarding his people, of course, and his possible marital obligations as the new king of Mandalore (“None,” Din had said quickly, as Luke had coughed violently on a sip of wine), his thoughts on the military that Leia currently oversaw (“Impressive,” Din says, honestly), and finally, how she would always be protective of her brother, and she would hate to have a reason to prove that with said military presence (“Of course, senator,” Din tells her, even Luke had said, “Seriously, Leia?”)

They haven’t had a moment to themselves ever since landing on the planet. Luke had been busy catching up with his sister, and Din has been forced to be incredibly careful of his behavior as to not screw up any basic diplomacy protocol that his advisors had instilled in him before he had left - and because they’re staying with Leia and Han for their trip, that combines with the awkward relationship that one has with essentially their sister and brother-in-law.

Unfortunately, this means that in the past week they’ve been here, he’s barely been able to talk to - let alone _touch -_ Luke, having been placed in separate quarters at night, and between Leia and her husband, they’ve been taking up most of his time. It’s a far cry from their life on Yavin, where Din wakes up every morning to Luke curled around him, can gently press his forehead against his.

(Luke had come into his room that first night. Din had felt like they were teenagers slipping out for some illicit meeting. Only he had barely gotten Luke’s trousers off before Luke had given a full-body cringe, had said, “So, Leia can definitely sense this through the Force,” and that had rather put a damper on events for both parties. Turns out, Luke has some issues with keeping his feelings from projecting so strongly when Din’s got his mouth on him).

So when Luke had appeared at his rooms earlier this evening, had said, “We’re going out,” Din had obliged him without a question. He’s not one for spending time in crowded bars, but Luke had reminisced fondly on their way there about some memory of accidentally starting a fight against some Rodians with Han.

Din is too deeply in love with this man to question just how many times he’s been involved in bar fights. He’s not one to critique that, after all - sometimes, being a bounty hunter makes things messy.

They’re at a corner booth that Luke had picked out knowing Din’s distaste for crowds. While it’s far from quiet, there is something admittedly nice about seeing Luke bob his head to the music playing, how the light dances off his hair. Din has been slowly burning inside the whole night, and it’s nothing to do with the constant sound and visual cues, and everything to do with watching the man across from him.

It’s not so much anything Luke’s said - or done, not really. Luke sits with his hood off of his head for once, shoulders relaxed as he slumps a little in place. His knees are pointed outwards, splayed slightly. Every once in a while his leg will bump Din’s, like it’s an accident, underneath the table, swinging in time with the music.

Only Din knows that Luke never does something by _accident_. It’s probably most telling that he hasn’t said anything in a while, actually. He’ll talk Din’s ear off of his latest plans to upgrade that X-wing of his given the chance. But now, he seems to be purposefully sliding his eyes to the side just as Din glances back at him, though not so fast that Din misses the way he’s running his eyes over him in the meantime. He, too, is making Din sweat under his beskar, though for very different reasons than his sister. 

Luke picks up his drink. He had called it tsiraki when bringing it to their table, what Din would describe as blue-colored jet fuel. His own glass is still in front of him, mostly full, but Luke seems to like it himself.

His tongue slips out, glides along the rim of his glass. It’s not noticeable unless you’ve been staring at him the whole time, but Din’s been transfixed by this man the entire time he’s known him, and no amount of flashing lights could distract him now.

Luke finishes his glass, and he licks his lips. “You don’t like it?” he asks Din, motioning to his glass. 

“It’s fine,” Din lies.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Luke says, and he snags Din’s glass for himself.

Unbothered, Din watches him drink some of the second glass, his throat moving. “I thought you liked it sweet,” he says, thinking of the way that Luke will pass on caf in favor of hot chocolate whenever they have it in stock back at the academy.

  
  
“Well,” Luke says, the edge of his mouth curling, “I like it rough too, sometimes - “

The very edge of his boot catches Luke’s. “Stop it.”

“What is it?” Luke asks, sounding very innocent. Din realizes his mistake as he slides his own boot on the ground, his ankle pressing against his, hard enough so he can feel it through the jumpsuit. “Don’t you?”

This has all been a set-up. His finely tuned senses from years of bounty hunting have failed him, as he sees Luke reach out to run his fingers along the outside of the beskar plate on his arm like he does when they’re alone, seemingly giving in to some yearning he’s had all evening. “Are you drunk?”

  
  
“Not at all,” Luke says, then, “Another drink?”

  
  
Were he not certain that the moment that they step foot in Leia’s home that she’ll likely whisk Luke off to talk in her rooms, he’d refuse. Instead, Din internally sighs. Whatever game this is, he’s sure to let Din in on it eventually. “Sure.”

He reaches to get out more credits from his pocket, but Luke says, “No need. They don’t take my money here.” He looks nearly sheepish about it, and Din realizes that he hadn’t paid for their drinks, earlier - nor started any tab.

  
  
Din’s fingers still on the credits. “You know the staff here?”

  
  
“They, ah, recognize me,” Luke says. “I did try, of course, but you know how it is. I didn’t want to make more of a fuss.”

Din doesn’t know how it is, but he figures that it might have been rhetorical. “I forget you’re famous here.” Beyond being the Senator’s brother, Luke Skywalker, he’s learned, is a name that everyone knows. It’s been strange, at times, to reconcile the man he’s in love with with the man who has two schools on Coruscant _alone_ named after him. The day that he had learned that Luke, with his gentle smiles at Din and endless patience with younglings, had blown up two Death Stars, he had to excuse himself from dinner early.

(It had been before they had been together, too. The image of Luke’s capable hands on an X-wing joystick, not once but _twice_ performing the impossible, flashed before him as he jerked off fast and hard that night, muffling his groans into the crook of his arm because Luke’s rooms were right next to his. So, competency might just do something for him.)

  
  
Luke’s grin is easy and bright across from him. “I’m famous in lots of places, haven’t you heard?”

  
  
“I can get the drinks,” Din tells him, and he starts to rise from the booth.

  
But Luke shakes his head. “No need,” he says, “That Cerean over there is sending one over - oh, and the Sollustan is just about to.”

Something hot flares up in him. Din decidedly does not turn his head to see whoever is apparently sending drinks over. He’d never thought he’d be the kind of man to feel that way, but something possessive undeniably curls away at him, before he can think any clearer.

“No need,” Din says, just a little sharp, making Luke’s eyes flick back to him, “I’ll go.”

  
  
Luke tilts his head, and it turns out that not even a helmet can hide him from this man. “You’re _jealous,”_ he says, realization dawning on him. It’s not a question, either, the more he continues to stare at him.

“Am not,” Din says, just a little petulant. Luke continues to give him that small, surprised smile, and he can’t find it within him to be disgruntled when he’s looking at him like that. “What?”

“I’m just looking at you,” Luke says, in that way that he effortlessly exudes fondness, that Din wishes he could be for him, sometimes. “Just when I think I know you entirely - there’s another piece like that that I learn.”

  
  
“You do know me,” Din says. He turns his arm so that Luke’s fingers brush against his palm, through the glove. “Sorry. It’s not like I think that you’re some object of mine to be guarded - “

“Oh, so I’m not yours?” Luke asks, innocent-sounding enough. His foot slides against Din’s, starting to run up his leg as he adds, “Maybe I like the idea of you staking a claim.”

“ _Luke_ ,” Din manages.

“Anyway,” Luke says, “The Sollustan is sending over two drinks. Maybe I’m the one who should be jealous.”

There are people who are interested in Mandalorians for very specific reasons, none of whom Din had held any particular attraction for, given they tend to try to take off his helmet up close. Before Luke - there hadn’t been anyone he’d let in like this, to touch him the way that Luke has, in every sense of the word.

Din swallows. “You have no reason to be jealous.”

  
“Who says I need a reason?” Luke says. Before he can process this, the man is sliding over in the booth they’re occupying, close to him. “But I really only care about your opinion, so maybe I should prove it to you.”

“I believe you,” Din says, a little dizzy like he whenever Luke is this close. He’s not sure why they sat at opposites sides of the table if he could have felt like this all evening.

“Maybe I feel like I should be staking a claim,” Luke says, thoughtfully, and Din wishes he could read his mind, only then his thoughts are quickly derailed as he feels Luke’s hand on his thigh, too high to be accidental.

Din’s hand catches his wrist, under the table. “What are you doing?”

Luke’s thumb rubs circles in his inseam, where the beskar plates have slipped as he sits, a weak spot in his armor. “I’ve been practicing,” he says, as casually as he runs his fingers over Din’s leg, back and forth, “Doing my mind tricks, as you say.”

His hand runs higher, and Din tightens his grasp. “What are you _doing_?” he repeats, glancing around them while trying not to attract any attention, as Luke’s fingers tease right over his cock. Din is starting to harden, despite everything, seeing Luke’s lips curved into a pleased smile at the sensation.

He could easily push him away - and he should, he really _should_ , only it’s been _days_ , and Luke’s breath is a steady contrast to the way his own comes out ragged, already. His fingers stay around Luke’s wrist, but after feeling no resistance, Luke continues to stroke him through the fabric.

“No one is going to look in this direction for a good while,” Luke tells him. “Like I said - mind tricks.”  
  
Din chances a look - and true to his words, no one is looking at them. Not even the furtive glances he’s been noticing all night in their direction, the way that people look over at Luke in the streets here like they recognize him, vaguely, before the realization sets in for most of them. Someone passes right by their table and doesn’t acknowledge them in any way, as Din tracks them for a moment.

Luke must be influencing them, somehow, he realizes, hiding them from view in this corner. That’s the only way that it makes sense, with how Luke is so freely touching him like this, in public. The thrill that shoots down his limbs at the idea of being so visible and hidden altogether is intoxicating.

So that’s new.

Luke’s hand withdraws from him fully then, and he says, “Din?”, clearly waiting for him to respond.

Without his hand, the arousal lessens so he can think. Din forces his mouth to work, says, “Yeah - iIf you’re sure - how can you even focus?” He’s got to be reaching out to dozens of the minds in the room, all the while slowly driving Din _mad._

_“_ I’m very good at multi-tasking,” Luke tells him. He’s still waiting, though, watching him.

Under his helmet, Din dips his head in a visible nod, and Luke’s mouth curls into a smile. His hand returns as Din lets him, and he’s reaching right for the fastening on his pants.

Din can’t stifle the slight sound he makes, imperceptible beyond the helmet when Luke’s fingers wrap around his cock. He looks around, fast on reflex, but even at the table next to theirs - two others nursing a large, bright green cocktail with two straws - no one bats an eye. Undeterred, Luke says right against his helmet, “I’ve been waiting for days to get you like this. I miss the way you feel against me, your weight on me - “

His thumb runs over the head of his cock, pressing, and Din’s hips thrust up in the seat, chasing the sensation. “You’re so responsive for me,” Luke says like it’s a marvel like he’s never done this before, tightening his grip on him and working him agonizingly slowly - well, not this, exactly, but Din’s not in the right headspace to consider such details - “All these meetings and all I want is for you to push me against one of those pillars, press your cock inside me. Everyone will be wondering what’s taking us so long to get back, as you’re trying to keep me quiet, but you, you can't even manage to stifle those beautiful sounds of yours - “

  
  
“You,” Din manages, “You’re still - _shit_ , there - no one’s looking still?”

Luke leans even closer, and he says right into his ear, “No one is going to come over, because I don’t want anyone but you to see me do this.” The way he's so sure of himself, cocky about it, is really doing things to him that should be irritating in any other way. 

  
“See you do what?” Din gets out before Luke is sliding underneath the table - between his legs, as strong arms come to part his thighs, holding him against the booth, and he's effectively trapped there. 

Din chances a look down, just in time for Luke to slip his cock out of his pants, and he’s taking Din into his mouth.

He grips onto the table in front of him, shaking under his grasp. He really, _really_ hopes this isn’t finally the time that Luke underestimates his powers. Luke’s tongue moves on the underside of his cock, laving attention there. Din can’t stop the gasps that are coming from deep inside him, as his hand automatically goes to the side of Luke’s head, his gloved fingers going into his hair, as Luke pulls back, sucking on the head of his cock hard. 

DIn might have a heart attack, but _worth it_. Luke hums, and then he's moving forward, his mouth so hot and wet around Din’s cock, it should be illegal. He takes more of him in, tongue moving around him as he goes back and forth, and Din is so _fucked,_ riding the rhythm like this.

“Luke,” Din gets out at last, “I’m not - _ah_ - gonna last - “

His gloved hand comes up, thumb running along the upper seam of Din’s thigh, bared by how he’s pulling the pants so far open to get to his cock. Stroking his full length once, Luke's head moves back completely, and Din can’t help the way his hips jerk forward, chasing the heat of his mouth. 

“I want to try something,” Luke says, his face barely visible. “Trust me?”

  
  
Din would throw himself in front of a rocket jet if Luke would ask him. He nods, shakily. Luke’s lips curve into the smile, the highlight just above his upper lip catching the overhead light. "Just relax," and his eyes slip shut. 

Then Din gets what he’s trying. Luke is projecting through the Force at him, sending him the sensation of kneeling on the sticky ground underneath the table, feeling the strength of Din’s thighs under his hands. The taste of him in his mouth - it’s like Din’s right there beside him, his fingers slipping down under the cloth, over his stomach, feeling the muscles jolt at the cool press of his hands against him. It’s bizarre to have both sides of the feeling like this. Din’s caught between the sense that he wants to lean forward, take his cock in his mouth, and also move into it all together. Luke's arousal, he realizes, mingles with his own, complementing each other like they're two shapes fitting together in his mind. The lines between them are blurred, but it’s like everything’s only been magnified in the confusion, and his own mouth is watering, or maybe it's Luke, as he bites down on his lip, aching for more - 

Luke takes him in his mouth again, picking up the pace with his hand around the rest of him. Din receives the dual sensation of giving and receiving, his own mouth opening with a groan under his helmet. _I can only imagine how you look like this_ , Luke’s voice filters in his head. Din realizes it’s his thoughts, that Luke can talk like this even with his cock in his mouth - _I’ve been dreaming about this, touching myself when you’re just a wall away, thinking about you, fuck, I miss you._

That sends him off, at last. Din comes feeling like he’s been punched in the gut, Luke’s lips ghosting over him, feeling as though he’s floating as he pulses into Luke's mouth, hearing Luke say, _there you are_ , smug even through the Force. 

Luke slowly rises from his crouched position while Din recovers his breath, kissing the exposed skin on the tops of his legs as he moves up, tracing muscle with his tongue. His thighs are still shaking by the time he makes it all the way up. He takes a seat once again with an entirely too serene look on his face, as Din tries to remember if the crack in the table had always been there.

“That,” Luke says, “Went well, I think.”

Around them, people walk by, chatting and flirting and none the wiser to how wrecked he is. He's going to have to give in to a lot more of his jealous streak in the future if this is what it gets him. Din says, hoarsely, “I don’t think I can stand.”

Luke lifts his fingers, touches the edge of his mouth with his thumb like he's wiping something away. He says, “So it was good for you?”

“Are you still making us invisible?” Din asks him.

  
“Yeah, what - “ and Luke’s cut off when Din pushes his helmet, abruptly, off of his head. Luke looks stunned by this, enough so that he doesn't resist when Din pulls him forward by those stupid Jedi robes so he can kiss him, hard and messily as he likes.

He can taste himself in Luke’s mouth, as Luke makes a pleasing sound, wrapping his arms around him. Din wonders just how much Luke can concentrate when _he’s_ the one getting his mind sucked out through his cock, or better yet -

He pulls back, Luke tilting forward as if to chase his mouth this time. With all the concentration he can muster, Din forcibly pushes the thought at Luke - rather, the image he comes up with. The picture of Din pushing back this table so he can fit between it and the seats, pinning Luke back in the seats, grinding down into him so that he can feel him grow hard underneath him, ride out his pleasure by pressing his face into Din’s bare neck, suck a mark there that only he will know about -

It must works because Luke sucks in a breath. “We’re leaving,” he decides, “Just - _shit_ , I want to see all of you. Let’s get out of here.”

Din strokes his fingers down the back of Luke’s neck. “What about your sister trying to protect your honor?”

“I’m sure Leia has some very important business in the city she has to attend to tonight,” Luke reasons, his pupils huge, blocking out even more of his pale irises. “I should tell her that. Han, too, and the droids should all have a night off.”

Din slides back on his helmet. Maybe Coruscant isn’t so bad, after all.


End file.
